Porcelain Cracks
by DarkEmeraldGem
Summary: Carmelita Spats is the most beautiful, talented, special, wonderful, mentally stable, brilliant, amazing little girl in the whole wide world. Carmelita Spats claims to be a lot of things. All of those things are lies.


**Author's Note: A Series of Unfortunate Events has been a huge part of my childhood when I was growing up and I hold a certain fondness for the books. The following is a series I've had in my mind since watching the Netflix show. It takes a look at an alternate depiction of the character of Carmelita Spats. There will be some heavily mature and adult themes here, including but not limited to: child abuse, neglect, anti-social personality disorder, narcissistic personality disorder, mentions and depictions of violence and murder, and more. Reader discretion is to be advised. **

**Without further ado, please enjoy! Feedback is welcome, and discussion is open!**

* * *

I've debated for a long, long time over how to start this autobiography off, and even what to call it. I went through a rather exhaustive list of names, you know:

**Carmelita Spats: A Story of Perfection**

**Carmelita Spats: The Tale of the Most Special Girl Ever**

**The Story of How Carmelita Spats Came to Be the Most Specialest Little Girl in the Whole Wide World. **(That one's a little bit on the long side, and, I'll admit, a bit of a mouthful to say).

**Me: The Completely Authorized Autobiography of the Prettiest, Smartest, Most Darling Girl in the Whole Wide World.**

(Yet another excessively long title, but maybe less of a tongue-twister than its predecessor).

But… none of those titles ever sat right with me. None of them got across what I'm _truly_ trying to convey with these memoirs of mine. None of them encompassed the story that I want to tell. And I've always believed that the title of a book is just as important as the tale that's woven within. So, I came up with a different name. A name that I hope may shed some light on what you're about to read.

**Porcelain Cracks. **

Of course, once I'd decided on a title, I had to decide on an opening chapter. How do I start this book? How do I start to tell you the story of my life? How to make you, dear audience, understand the depths of my soul in a way that I have never quite been able to before.

I could start it like a fairy-tale. I could start it with "once upon a time". That old cliche. I'm smiling just thinking about that. What would a fairy-story based on my life even be like? Well, I'm sure it would go something like this:

_Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Carmelita Spats. Carmelita Spats lived with her adoptive parents, Lucas Spats and Evelyn Spats. Her parents were very, very rich. They own several businesses and Carmelita is heir to their massive fortune._

_Carmelita Spats was the apple of her parent's eye. She was the prettiest, smartest, most-talented and most important girl in the whole wide world. She was ten-years-old. She had curly red hair and porcelain doll-skin. She loved the color pink. She looked really cute in the color pink._

_(She looked really cute in any color, but pink was her absolute favorite)._

_She was very talented. She was the most talented person in the entire world. She enjoyed dancing and singing and performing and telling stories and making up her own little songs. Carmelita's songs were always much better than the stupid ones you hear on the radio. Even if they didn't rhyme ( but who cares, because only cakesniffers care about poetic form). Carmelita was so talented that everybody loved her. Her mommy and daddy loved her so very much that they gave her anything she asked for._

_The teachers at school loved her too. They gave her the best grades because she was so smart and talented and she deserved nothing less than an A on every assignment. They wished that they could tell her how special she was every day, but they couldn't. The other children loved Carmelita Spats too._

_They all wanted to be her friends. Everyone wanted to be Carmelita's friend. Those who didn't were just stupid cakesniffers and not worth writing about. Everybody loved Carmelita Spats. Carmelita Spats was the most darling, special, important, wonderful, kindest, most talented, brilliant, beautiful and most amazing little girl that ever existed in the history of any little girl in the world, ever._

Everyone loved Carmelita Spats.

Everyone loved Carmelita Spats.

_Everyone_ loved Carmelita Spats.

Everyone _loved_ Carmelita Spats.

I could write it like that. I could fill these pages with a story about how wonderful Carmelita Spats is and how much everyone loves her and how talented she is, and how great her life is, and how she has everything she could ever want and everybody loves her and how anyone who dares to speak against precious Carmelita are just cakesniffers and how they all end up getting exactly what's coming to them, and Carmelita goes on to live happily ever after as the most special and wonderful and beautiful girl in the whole wide world.

_Could._

I _could_ write my story like that. I'm sure it would sell loads of copies, too, and make millions of dollars. I'm sure that people would read it.

But that's not the story I want to write. That's not the reason I bought this notebook. I bought it to be honest, to be me. The real, unadulterated, true, imperfect, me. I bought it so that, one day, I may feel comfortable to share my story with anyone out there who cares enough to listen.

(God, I seriously hope that, one day, someone cares enough to listen)

I'm sick of pretending. I'm sick of being fake. I'm sick of waking up every morning and knowing that I have to be someone I'm not.

Carmelita Spats is a fake, a wannabe, a sham.

Carmelita Spats _does not exist._

This is me. The real me. The me that lurks behind the ribbons and the pink dresses and the god awful singing and the obnoxious voice, and the consistent referring to people as "cakesniffers" and the stupid tap-shoes and the ridiculous dances and all of the pretending.

This is me, uncovered. Unashamed. Showing the world the darkest facets of my psyche. Peeling away the layers. No longer sugarcoating anything. Stepping out into the light and revealing my true self for the very first time.

This is my story.

No more secrets.

No more lies.

_No more Carmelita Spats._

My real name is Danielle Ivanovitch, and I'm twenty-eight years old.

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**Hi everyone!**

**So, that was the first chapter of this little story of mine done. Now, after reading that last line, you may be wondering "wait, Carmelita's twenty-eight?!" and then you may be thinking "uh… did she take this plot point from Orphan?" and the answer to that, little question, is a resounding, Yes. I did take this plot-point from 2009's Orphan. I've always loved that movie and the twist at the end still blows me away to this day. So, when I saw Carmelita Spats on Netflix' A Series of Unfortunate Events, my first thought was "for some reason she reminds me a little bit of Esther" and voila, this idea to give Carmelita the same disorder that Esther had came to mind.**

**Now, it should be noted that this story isn't going to be a direct copy of Orphan, despite the similarities. Carmelita's story may share some connections with Esther's but it will be hers and I've thought quite a lot about her backstory and her history and how she came to be the darling little girl we all know and love-to-hate today. With that said, I welcome discussion and I'd love to talk about this story with anyone who wants to listen.**

**Please also note that there more than likely won't be any shipping in this story, since that's not what it's about.**

**Thank you! Coming up soon, we get a little bit more of an insight into Danielle/Carmelita's early life, and a glimpse into what made her the person she is today.**

**:)**


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